


Hold My Fucking Beer, Mate

by the_tragedist



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Battle Couple, Diners, M/M, also there's violence, also this might be considered bullying I'm not entirely sure where the line is, and mentions of bullying taking place, and mentions of glassing, anyway newt and Thomas meet in an unusual way at a party, but in this he's kind of a dick, gally and ben are hockey players and don't get me wrong I love gally, newt and Minho go to a college party which gets out of hand, newt's kinda a badass, winston is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tragedist/pseuds/the_tragedist
Summary: Newt had struck a deal with his college roommate and best friend, Minho: one party a year for every year they were in college.Only this party isn't like the others and Newt quickly find himself caught up in the middle of someone else's trouble.Basically, Newt and Thomas meet while shit is going down at a college party. A ruckus ensues.





	Hold My Fucking Beer, Mate

**Author's Note:**

> this work is hella unbetad so please, forgive the numerous spelling mistakes which are bound to be lurking. you can find me on tumblr @runthemaze for more nonsense and swearing. 
> 
> this is also based off of the prompt from an anon on tumblr who requested newtmas + “Conversations? Socializing? Being outside of my house? That sounds horrible, no.”

“We’re going too a party tonight,” Minho says casually from their shared small kitchen.  
he doesn’t look up from his book, “Conversations? Socializing? Being outside of my house? That sounds horrible, no.”  
“Come on,” Minho says, sitting down next to him on the couch.  
Newt inhales deeply, bracing himself for one of his roommate and best friend’s world-class pep-talks. There was nothing he took more seriously than them and Newt had long since learned to both oblige (and occasionally heed) his roommates speeches.  
“It’s one party,” he says, raising single finger as though to keep Newt from misinterpreting. “You’re a Junior and you’ve been to how many parties?”  
“Two,” he answers begrudgingly, already knowing the path of the conversation.  
“Exactly,” Minho sits back with a smirk, foreseeing the outcome. “And what was our deal about parties?”  
He doesn’t bother to suppress his sigh, “One party a year.”  
Minho claps him har don the shoulder, “And tonight’s the night, buddy.”  
He’d known this day was coming. The entire winter had passed and now the the weather was warm and they were closing in on summer Glade University was once again a hub of parties. He’d expected to be forced into one of the parties early in the year, before summer fully fled; however, when the fall semester came and went and he was allowed to remain at home he’d let himself foolishly hope Minho had forgotten their freshman year pact.  
Clearly that was not the case.  
An hour later they stand outside a house, multicolored lights shining through the windows and base reverberating beneath their feet despite still remaining on the sidewalk.  
“Let’s go!” Minho says, stepping forward before he’s caught by the arm.  
“Who’s our ride?” He asks, knowing the answer but making the other boy repeat it anyway.  
“Fry,” Minho says, making it clear he thinks Newt’s concern is unneeded and irritating.  
“Good,” he releases his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”  
Together they approach the house. As they approach Newt can hear the sounds of laughter and shouting, both of which already grate on his temples. Its going to be a long night.  
It isn’t that he hates interacting with people. It’s just a lot of work. He’s got a group of close friends and he’d be lost without them, but expanding his circle seemed unnecessary. To be fair, aside from Alby—a friend from high school—the friends he did have had actively barged into his world and refused to be ignored. He’d met Fry in the dining hall where they both had work study. Minho was his assignment roommate freshman year and had stuck around ever since. A few others: Winston, Chuck, had simply wandered into his life and made themselves at home. For all that they annoyed him, he wouldn’t have it any other way and if he was feeling particularly self reflective he’d acknowledge that he was probably the happiest socially that he’d ever been.  
Still didn’t make him want to go to a fucking party.  
Minho is his ticket in, pulling the doorman into some sort of bro-handshake. He’d been accepted to the school on a track scholarship and was easily one of the most popular students in their year. The same could be said for Alby. Amongst them Newt was an unspoken packaged deal: where they went, he went. It wasn’t an association he minded, but in the midst of the athletic crowd attending the party he stood out like a sore thumb.  
“Here,” Minho says finding Newt nestled in a order roughly five minutes after arriving.  
He thrusts a plastic cup into Newt’s hand, the red contents nearly sloshing on him. He raises the drink and sniffs it, nose wrinkling at the cloying scent.  
“What the hell is this?”  
The other boy takes a glance into the swirling liquid, “Vodka, wine cooler, and….Caprisun?”  
“Why the fuck would I drink this?” He asks, holding the cup away from him as though it might bight  
“Gally made it,” he says with a shrug.  
“Yeah,” he says. “Just another reason not to.”  
“Thought it might loosen you up.”  
“Thanks,” he says, passing the drink back to his friend. “But no thanks.”  
“Suit yourself,” he takes the cup. “I’mma wander around for a bit. Shoot me a text when your ready to get out of here.”  
Minho drifts away into the crowd of bodies, his laughter ringing out above the haze of noise.  
Eventually Winston finds him and offers him a beer. They fold into the wall, chatting mindlessly about their shared Physics courses. It was a nice bit of idle chit chat, but he still felt as though it wasn’t worth leaving his house for.  
“Big mistake Greenie!” A voice shouts, followed by a surprised yelp.  
Looking away from Winston he sees a crowd has formed by the patio doors. The entirety of the party seems to have paused to observe whatever spectacle was taking place. They amble over and push their way to the front.  
Gallly and Ben, two hockey players that Newt had thankfully only had to share courses with a few times in his years at the Glade were standing, arms crossed, fuming with rage. It was directed at a brown haired boy, who stood with his hands up, looking both irritated and confused. Thomas, he thinks the boy’s name is, they’d sat a few seats from one another in the fall semester. He was nice, a transfer student or something. They’d never had a conversation as far as he can remember aside from Thomas asking if he was in the right class.  
“I didn’t touch Brenda,” he snaps, words directed at Gally. “We’re partners for a presentation. That’s it!”  
“Yeah right,” Gally says advancing.  
Thomas steps back slightly, only to realize that the ring of people had formed a barrier, blocking his escape. This was going to get extremely messy, extremely fast.  
As if prompted by Newt’s thoughts, Gally throws a punch which Thomas narrowly misses, ducking beneath his arm only to side step to avoid Ben’s fist. It wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest. Two hockey players, each of whom had at lest four inches and fifty pounds on Thomas, coming at him at once. The kid was going to get pounded and judging by his tone, for no good reason.  
Time for some bad decisions.  
“Hold my fucking beer, Win,” Newt snaps, pushing the bottle into his surprised friend’s hands.  
He brings back his fist and slams it into Ben’s face, sending him clattering backwards and into the coffee table. Pain sparks in his knuckles.  
‘Behavioral issues,’ had been Newt’s tagline through middle school. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but somewhere early on he and his twin sister, Sonya, had been branded as bully fodder. They’d sat and taken it for a few years, it was just insults at first. Then in eighth grade, some bastard cut off Sonya’s braid in the lunch line. He’d found her sobbing in the bathroom. It was that very night that they made a pact not to take shit from anyone any longer. Unfortunately, with that came bruised knuckles, two broken noses, and several suspensions. It hadn’t lasted long. In tenth grade they moved to the United States and managed to leave that shit behind them. Still, it came as comfort knowing that he didn’t have to worry about Sonya as they lived separately for the first time in their lives in college.  
He appreciates the experience he got now because Ben staggers back to his feet and fixes his eyes on him. He lunges forward and Newt uses his momentum to sent him crashing into he crowd of people that have gathered. Gally and Thomas are locked in a hard struggle, and Thomas is thrown to the ground at Newt’s feet. He pulls him up.  
“You okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes fixed on Gally.  
“Thanks, Newt,” he gasps, patting his shoulder.  
A few guys appear behind Gally, other members of the godforsaken hockey team.  
“I didn’t touch Brenda!” Thomas spits at Gally.  
The other’s face contorts into a sneer, “Bullshit.”  
Ben climbs back to his feet and stands at Gally’s side, blood running his nose. There was no way in hell they we’re going to be able to take these guys like this. And of course they were between them and the door.  
“If this gets ugly,” he says out of the side of his mouth. “You run, get it?”  
“What?” He can hear panic in Thomas’ voice.  
Newt doesn’t answer, stepping forward and picking up 40oz off the table.  
“You’re letting us go,” he says calmly. “Or I’ll glass you. I’m sure Brenda won’t like you as much with ribbons for a face.”  
Gally laughs, “‘Glass us”?”  
He grips the bottle hard. It isn’t the first time he’s done this, but he’d hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat.  
“The cops are coming!” A voice from the crowd shrieks.  
It’s the saving grace they needed. Immediately chaos ensues, people running in every direction, trying to get free of the house before the police arrive.  
Thomas pats his back, dodging a punch from Gally, “Thanks, Newt.”  
“Don’t thank me yet,” he snaps, pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go.”  
They leap down the steps of the house, cold night air rushing around them. Shouts rise from the house and they don’t stop running down the street. Thomas bursts out laughing as they round a corner, winding through the suburban neighborhood. Newt’s leg aches and his lung burn but he can’t stop smiling.  
They run to a shitty looking diner at the every edge of the neighborhood. It’s yellow and red lights warmly beat back the two AM darkness. They slips through the sliding doors and sit in one of the booths. The plastic leather sticks against his shirt, and he leans back, looking up at the garishly patterned ceiling out of breath.  
“What’s ‘Glassing?’” Thomas asks after a moment of rest.  
He raises an eyebrow, “Really?”  
“If you couldn’t tell,” he replies. “I don’t usually deal with that sort of thing. Seems like you have though.”  
“‘Glassing,’ is when you take a bottle,” he mimes the motion. “And smash it into someone’s face so it shatters.”  
Thomas’ eyes widen, “Shit.”  
“Shit, indeed.”  
They’re quiet for another minute until Thomas speaks again, “You wanna milkshake?”  
He grins, “Sure. Strawberry.”  
“Cool,” the other boy slide out of the booth to order. Newt glances out the window to see two cop cars speeding past.  
Maybe the party wasn’t such a bad after all.


End file.
